


Indigestion

by methylviolet10b



Series: Dinner Plans [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Crack, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt Fic, Supernatural Elements, Tropes, Whump, oh help trope city!, oh so many tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7589005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson's not sure what happened. Written for JWP #25: Trope Trainwreck. Tropes listed at the end of the story (spoilers, sweetie!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indigestion

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Definitely related to the story I wrote for [JWP #19](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7536892), so you might want to read that one first. Then again, I doubt this will make that much more sense, so as you please. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a complete rush. You have been warned.

I became aware of a terrible, thudding pain throbbing through my skull. I suppressed a groan, and instead attempted to open my eyes.  
  
“Easy, Watson.” I recognized the voice long before I could force my gummy, sticky eyes to open and focus on the figure leaning over me.  
  
“Holmes.” My voice sounded as rough as it felt. I realized I was reclining on the settee in our most recent client’s parlour. “What happened?”  
  
“You took quite the blow.” My friend looked unusually pale. His brier pipe dangled between two fingers, momentarily forgotten. “What do you remember?”  
  
I frowned. The most ridiculous images flashed before my eyes, and I found myself with an almost overwhelming need to share them. “The most bizarre things, mostly – nothing that makes sense, or could be real.” I shivered.  
  
If anything, Holmes grew paler, and his concerned frown deepened. “Tell me, Watson. Tell me, no matter how absurd it might seem.” He saw me hesitate, and gripped my hand. “It’s vitally important. Speak!”  
  
“I dreamed – I saw – Mrs Hudson, only a dark, impossible presence loomed over her, and then she – she sprouted tentacles!”  
  
“From where?” Holmes demanded.  
  
“From – from never mind where! And then Inspector Hopkins came to call, and – and she _claimed_ him, like some kind of possession! Called him her Omega, whatever that means!” I started to tremble even as my vision started to clear.  
  
“Shocking,” Holmes murmured. “What else?”  
  
Words continued to pour out of me, nearly beyond my control as I felt strength seeping back into my limbs. “Inspector Lestrade came into our sitting-room, only he had a ferret following him, and _talking_ , and it mustn’t be touched, for it’s actually Lestrade’s soul!” I gasped for breath. “And Inspector Gregson followed him, only he was a _child_ with bizarrely-large eyes!” Something rose in my throat, threatening to block off my words, but I forced myself to push them out. “And then the moon rose, and I changed – into a _kitt_ - _”_  
  
The last word choked off and turned into a horrible, body-shaking series of coughs. I struggled for air between the seizures, only vaguely aware of the black vapour pouring from my mouth with every spasm, and of Holmes sucking up the vapour with his pipe as I convulsed.  
  
“Thank God,” Holmes exclaimed with vast relief when at last I could breathe again. “Your breath is clear. Watson, how do you feel?”  
  
I sat up easily, feeling immeasurably better, almost entirely as usual, if somewhat confused. I told him so.  
  
“You seem to have expelled all the venom of the _illt draumur dýrið_ ,” Holmes observed with satisfaction. “When I saw you fall, I thought - ” He broke off with an uncomfortable shrug. “Well, never mind. Are you sure there was nothing else you remember?”  
  
I paused.  “You ate a spectral woman in black,” I said at last.  
  
“Ah.” Holmes sighed, and then his jaws gaped. “That much was no hallucination. It happened a fortnight ago,” he said clearly despite the forest of needle-sharp teeth that flashed with unnatural light. He closed his mouth, puffed briefly on his pipe, and when he spoke again, his teeth and appearance were back to what he allowed the rest of the world to see. Only I had ever been privileged to catch glimpses of his true nature.  
  
“Good,” I told him with fervour. “I suppose you might do the same to this _illa_ – er, whatever it was that attacked me?”  
  
Holmes grinned, and while his teeth remained human-normal, there was a most definite predatory gleam in his eyes. “My dear Watson, it shall be my very great pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Tropes invoked include: adjective abuse, whumped Watson awakening on a sofa, Cthulu/Elder Gods, tentacles, Omega-verse, His Dark Materials-verse, chibi-character/kid!fic, were-Watson, protective!Holmes, pawky!Watson, and of course, "it was all a dream" (or in this case, the side-effects of an attack by an Icelandic horror I completely made up). Sorry, I couldn't fit vampires in. ;-)
> 
>  
> 
> Originally posted July 25, 2016.


End file.
